Cullenlingus: A Mind Over Matter Outtake
by SubtlePen
Summary: Edward and Bella have reached a new level of intimacy in their relationship just prior to their wedding. This outtake shows us Edward's POV of Mind Over Matter: Chapter 14, 'Taboo.' AU, Vamp, BxE, Graphic content, brief blood play, rated M.


Summary:

**Edward and Bella have reached a new level of intimacy in their relationship just prior to their wedding. This one-shot outtake shows us Edward's point of view from my story "Mind Over Matter: Chapter 14, 'Taboo'."**

I suggest you read Mind Over Matter, especially the chapter "Taboo" before you read this, although it will probably be an enjoyable read either way... Edward describes events occurring in earlier chapters, as well as chapter 14, so that readers of this outtake can enjoy it without reading the entire fic.

This Out-Take is brought to you by the popular demand of my readers and reviewers! I guess the chapter i posted in M.O.M. just wasn't smutty enough for you, ya pervs! *silly grin*

Vamp AU, (Mostly) Canon BxE, Rated NC-17 for graphic descriptions... of Cullenlingus... and some things that _might_ gross you out.

My deep gratitude to **NINAPOLITAN** for permission to use the word "Cullenlingus" from her outrageously entertaining story, **The Bella Swan Diaries**... GO READ IT._  
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_Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series, nor any of the characters created by Stephenie Meyer. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

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_**Today**_

I turned off the video, smiled, and pulled her back into my arms. I knew that watching me hunt had aroused her. In truth, it aroused _me_. I kissed her, and she nodded her assent to the question neither of us needed to speak. I kissed her over and over, traveling across her body, worshipping her, thanking her, expressing my love for her with my words, my hands and my lips, and with promises of the ecstasy we were both about to experience.

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_**Reminiscing**_

Ever since the day of our picnic and Deception Pass, and actually after the events later that evening, I'd been hard pressed to contain myself. I think I finally had a sense of the level of frustration she'd felt for months. It was easy to list the many reasons I loved her, but for the last few days it was her talented mouth and her delicious sex that occupied my mind.

She'd been dying to get her mouth on me for weeks, stopping just short of begging for it, which was a relief. If she'd resorted to begging, it would have driven me insane. Just the thought of her on her knees with my cock filling her mouth was enough to splinter my mind. Good god, the pleasure I imagined! But I'd refused to expect her, much less ask her, to assume a position I still associated with turning a woman into a subservient orifice.

I'm not sure how, but I finally realized that this was something she wanted for _herself_, rather than providing as a 'service.' Even though I would be the one having an orgasm, it struck me that causing it could be just as pleasurable for her, like the giving of a gift. The irony was not lost on me. I had been hurt by her unwillingness to accept my gifts in the past, and now I was doing the same to her. I wanted to give _her_ pleasure, but I hadn't accounted for her need to selflessly give the same to me.

When we got home from Deception Pass, I fully intended to let her rest. I knew she and Alice had arranged for us to have the house to ourselves, but I wasn't about to wake her. As much as I hated to admit it, I was almost hoping the banging around I'd done in the kitchen would do it. I had been, for roughly the past three weeks, erect more hours of the day than not, and I was beginning to loathe providing my own release. We had an unfortunate knack for getting each other worked up just in time for an interruption.

When I made it back up to my room, I was going to lie on the sofa and read a while until she woke. That's when I discovered her clothes, neatly folded and placed on the arm of the sofa. She was naked, or nearly so, and feigning sleep. Deciding to play along, and up the ante, I stripped completely and crawled into bed with her. Discovering her wearing lace underwear and a matching bra did more to get me worked up than if I'd found her naked. I'd come to love the little mystery of removing her undergarments, even though I was fairly well acquainted with what lay beneath them.

Before I had the chance, she'd pulled the covers back. In a matter of minutes, she was touching me, caressing and stroking me, worshipping me. When she finally took me in, I was unprepared for the intensity, and almost came the instant her lips closed around me. I had to push her back at one point when I nearly started thrusting into her mouth. Bella, my beautiful delicate Bella, was fellating me. I imagined that the sensation of actual intercourse couldn't possibly be much better than this. She had her lips wrapped around me, sucking me, pumping me, grazing her teeth on the sensitive underside of my cock, hitting that fucking spot right under the head, massaging and gently tugging on my balls and _moaning_ on me. I heard more moaning and silently cursed Emmett again, thinking he'd set up one of his dvds on a timer or something, but quickly realized the sounds were coming from _me_. I was moaning like a whore, panting and crying out Bella's name, and I wasn't even aware of what all else. I could have been reciting Homer's _Odyssey_ in the original Greek and wouldn't have known it, I was so far gone. I briefly considered trying to get her to stop before I came, even going so far as to make a half-hearted attempt to push her away, but the truth of the matter is that it felt so goddamned good I lost the mental capacity to consider the possible dangers of her swallowing. And swallow she did, and then smiled at me. She _smiled._

After several minutes of zero cognitive function, it occurred to me that Bella had immeasurable skill, at least more than I would have expected, given her lack of sexual experience. Neither one of us knew what we were doing when we first started all this, at least not in a practical application sense. I, of course, had considerably more medical and anatomical knowledge than she did, and the added benefit of having overheard myriad sex fantasies over the years. She, as far as I knew, had only what she'd learned in school. Therefore, I had a hard time wrapping my then low-functioning brain around the fact that she'd just given me what would probably be considered a world-class blow job. At least, that's what it felt like to me. To say I was shocked when she told me how she'd learned it, would be an epic understatement.

I'd also been subjected to Emmett's pornography over the years. There was a time when he delighted in slipping bondage pictures of Bettie Paige in whatever book I was reading, and then later he began taping over my favorite movies, or at least crucial scenes, with Linda Lovelace, Traci Lords or Marilyn Chambers. More recently he'd taken to leaving the house with Jenna Jameson dvds running in his room at full volume. He stopped that pretty soon after having to replace his third plasma in as many months. Plasmas don't respond well to being punched. Jasper had to physically restrain me the time Emmett insisted I looked a little like a 'movie star' named Lukas Ridgeston, gathered the entire family for movie night and proceeded to see if they agreed with him. Fortunately, Carlisle and Esme aren't gay porn fans and turned it off as soon as they could get the remote away from him.

Most recently he'd managed to find a movie starring a girl with an uncanny resemblance to Bella. At first I thought it was a sick photoshop joke, the girl looked so much like her. I was fully erect within seconds of seeing her on the screen, spread wide open for an obviously enthusiastic, and apparently ravenous, partner. I was appalled when it became apparent that the doppelganger would be joined onscreen by more than one co-star. I wondered then if he realized how much the second costar resembled himself, or if that was just a coincidence. When he had the gall to ask me if Bella kept her body as hairless as the porn star, it took every ounce of effort I could muster not to rip his dick off and feed it to him.

Later that night Bella nearly killed me deader than I already am by grinding against me throughout a very vivid sex dream, the end of which included giving herself an orgasm as I watched from across the room. I left her as quickly as I could without seeming rude, and managed to find a measure of relief in the woods behind her house. As is par for my course, I was hard again before I even made it half way home. Clearly, recovery time wasn't ever going to be a concern.

***

Regardless of where she'd learned how, I was a little intimidated by Bella's talented performance, feeling as if she'd thrown the gauntlet. When the time finally seemed right, later that night, I mustered the courage and let my instincts take over. I fumbled at first, putting her into a position that didn't look terribly comfortable. I managed to scoot her to the edge of the bed and knelt between her legs, feeling like a supplicant bowed before the altar that was her sex, pleading to be deemed worthy. I took my time, savoring the sight displayed before me, her earthy scent, the texture of her skin under my hands, the responsiveness of her body, the small sounds she made in anticipation of what was to come.

I'd tasted her before, on my fingertips, and resisted all the hackneyed clichés: nectar, ambrosia, and honey. They all reminded me of either really bad erotica or that ironically apropos Nine Inch Nails song; even if fucking her like an animal wasn't very far from what I secretly wanted. I kicked myself for ever giving her the 'wine' analogy. A '61 Latour would be insipid in comparison, had I been a connoisseur. She wasn't sweet, or juicy, or like anything else describable in actual words. Her flavor was her own; the concentrated, unadulterated _essence_ of Bella. It was every scent her body produced, from her blood to her sweat to everything in between that made her smell like _her_, all of it seeping from that small secret place, carried on the abundant evidence of her arousal, waiting for me, tempting me, luring me. I hit the hook with gusto, lost between the heaven of the experience and the swell of pride I felt knowing that it was indeed as pleasurable for her as I'd hoped. She moaned my name, cried out to god, whimpered, begged and sighed and it fueled me like nothing had ever done before. I knew from experience that if I pushed her and then backed off at just the right time, I could prolong her ecstasy, build on it, magnifying the end when we finally found it. I looked forward to discovering new ways to lead her there, new ways to appreciate the journey, and all the steps along the way.

Several days later, I entered her room as usual, stripping to my underwear and laying on her bed. I could hear her speaking to Charlie, and then her footfalls on the stairs. I listened to the shower, and then she entered the room. We'd been separated mere hours, but it was still too long. She was with me.

_Finally._

The aroma wafting throughout the room revealed she'd started her cycle. She was extremely predictable, but somehow I'd lost track of the date. Usually I tried to plan an extended hunting trip to coincide with her heaviest days, granting myself a reprieve form the mind-numbing torture of laying politely by while the scent fogged my thoughts for hours on end. Still buoyed by my recent victories, I lay my head in her lap while she read. I felt like a trained dog with a biscuit perched on it's nose, his Pavlovian response dripping from his jowls. Fortunately, I resisted openly drooling.

When she asked me if it was difficult to be there during her period, I almost dropped the biscuit. I wanted to press my face between her legs, to surround myself with the forbidden treasure, claim it, inhale it, devour it, ignoring a taboo that few others would. She ran her fingers through my hair, the gentle touch pulling me from my reverie. Bella would be repulsed. That thought stopped me from acting on the urge. She was waiting for an answer.

I was cryptic, never directly answering the question until it became apparent I needed to tell her the truth. I knew she'd refuse me, but I needed her to know what I wanted, what I desperately craved. I owed her my honesty, and knew it was the foundation we'd worked so hard to build: honesty with each other and with ourselves about our fears, however irrational, and our desires, however dark.

Rather than gracelessly blurt it out, I asked her if she'd enjoyed what we'd done after our picnic, knowing she'd put two and two together. She reacted as I expected, flustered, her mind working a mile a minute to process all the implications. I soothed her fears, trying to explain it in as matter-of-fact terms as I could, and gave her an opportunity to drop the subject, which she took.

I knew she was picturing the worst case scenario. Knowing her aversion to the sight and smell of blood, she was probably imagining all manner of red-smeared nightmares, most of them likely revolving around my face. Of course that was how she would picture it. She'd never seen me hunt, had no idea what that looked like, had no reason to believe, even now, that I might feed with anything other than a frenzied gnashing of teeth resulting in gaping wounds. I actually prided myself on my habits, frequently leaving scant evidence as to my prey's cause of death, aside from the obvious lack of blood. I decided to convince Jasper to go for another brief hunt, camera in hand. I hoped to kill two birds: allowing her to see me hunt, and assuaging any fears she might have about my 'table manners,' for lack of a better description. I hoped afterwards that she'd be curious enough to ask about her period again. If not, I was more than content with things the way they stood.

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_**Today**_

I turned off the video, smiled, and pulled her back into my arms. I knew that watching me hunt had aroused her. In truth, it aroused _me_, and made me hopeful that the ploy might have piqued her interest. I kissed her, and she thrilled me by nodding her assent to the question neither of us wanted to voice. I covered her with open kisses, traveling across her body, worshipping her, thanking her, expressing my love for her with my words, my hands and my lips, and with promises of the ecstasy we were both about to experience.

I was elated, intoxicated, and emboldened to allow my desire to wash over me more than I'd ever done in her presence. The nearer to her core I brought my face, the harder it was to go slowly. I felt starved, deprived, parched. I wanted to swallow every drop of everything she could give me, and drag this out for hours. I checked myself with that thought, and closed my eyes long enough to remember Bella's needs. I had to remind myself that she needed to receive at last as much pleasure from this as me. This act, her passivity, her willingness to allow me this experience, was a gift she was giving me, even more so than the first time I'd done this, and certainly more so than if our positions had been reversed. I needed to accept it gracefully if I expected to ever receive it again.

I paced myself, and began with gentle kisses, opening her, encouraging her to relax. As she settled, I allowed myself to sneak just the barest tip of my tongue out to taste her. Hers was the last human blood I'd taken, over a year ago, and before that it had been decades. I'd never, however, tasted _this_. My mind reeled; the line between the bloodlust I'd conquered, and the sexual lust currently assaulting by brain, was fading. I focused on the mantra that saved me early on: her name, the sight of her blushing face, and the word NO. Just as I'd done weeks ago, I focused on my love for her, her beauty, and her trust, and my confidence returned. I refused to dive in with the force my body cried out for. I kissed her thigh, hoping to ease us both into this rather than overwhelm her and risk that she demand I stop. Her body stilled, and I knew she was paying close attention to my actions. I began again, still just the barest tip of my tongue, and was rewarded with a quiet sigh and a slight twitch of her hips encouraging me to continue. I was grateful for my strength when a sweep across her core with my flattened tongue caused her to arch up against my face. I laughed at the force of her reaction. She laughed with me after a moment, and I repeated the motion. I was rewarded with my name, played across her lips in a guttural moan. The sound of that encouragement, coupled with the taste of blood and sex on my tongue made my cock twitch painfully. As much as I wanted to take myself in hand as I pleasured Bella, I refused to be distracted and ignored my aching cock for the time being.

I took every scrap of knowledge I gleaned from her over the past weeks, how she liked me to touch her, how she liked to touch herself, and put it to use. Everything we'd done in the past with our hands, I did with my lips and tongue. I tapped the pearl of her clitoris repeatedly with the tip of my tongue, stopped and licked her slowly from back to front, then returned to her clit to suck and swirl. I nibbled her lips with my own, shielding her from my teeth, but tugging, exploring, and licking every millimeter. With every return to her clit, she would arch her back and cry out my name. I used my hands to make sure that no part of her was neglected, be it her breasts, just within reach, or parts of her core being neglected by my mouth. I was relentless, building her up, bringing her to the brink, and slowly, carefully backing away, keeping her primary climax at bay. She quivered beneath me, her body unmistakably hungry for release, but she didn't ask for it. She somehow knew that the longer we held out, the better it would be. Or perhaps, she just didn't want it to end. So I continued, loving her, taking what she offered, giving everything I had, entering her and retreating, consuming her.

I had no sense of time, but I knew she was nearing her limit. Her vocalizations had morphed into pants and gasps rather than intelligible words, and her legs were beginning to tremble. I worked to bring her final release, focusing the action of my tongue on a spot that caused her to grunt when I found it, and two carefully placed fingers massaging her from within. When she finally came, she convulsed inwardly upon herself as if she'd been punched in the gut, calling my name in a high pitched keening sob.

The trickle of fluid that fell across my tongue was my reward. I took every drop she gave, gratefully. I wasted nothing, allowing nothing to leave her body that wasn't captured in my mouth, allowing nothing to mar her skin, or the bed. I wanted no evidence that might make her feel shame for this act. I wanted nothing for her after this but bliss, and comfort, and to feel loved and cherished.

As she wilted, gasping for air, I finally sought my release. Resting my forehead on her mound, it took little effort, and my cry reverberated around us as I emptied myself onto the otherwise spotless bed.

I lay down beside her, spent and as close to sleep as was vampirically possible. She tenderly caressed my face, and I hesitated to lean in to kiss her the way I wanted to. She whispered that she loved me, and placed a feather-light kiss on my lips. I repeated the sentiment and accepted her warm embrace...

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*lights match*

*sparks a cig*

*draws in, holds*

*exhales*

Damn. Was it good, for you?

_You know how to show me what you like...._


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